


Gaius and Geoffrey Sitting in a Tree

by objectlesson



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Banter, Carefree Boys!, Established Merthur, Fluff, Gaius Fucks, Humor, M/M, Merlin's pov, Naked Cuddling, though not explicitly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/objectlesson/pseuds/objectlesson
Summary: Merlin is too preoccupied with Arthur to notice he's not the only one in Camelot who is getting laid.
Relationships: Gaius/Geoffrey of Monmouth (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 90





	Gaius and Geoffrey Sitting in a Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shir_hashirim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shir_hashirim/gifts).



> I wrote this because me and Rachy were talking about how much we love Gaius and I spilled my 80000 head canons about him and Geoffrey (and him and Percival but thats a different story I will write one day and literally only Rachy and my wife will read probably), and once I typed it all once, it seemed silly not to do it again. Get is Gaius!

They’re in bed, sweat cooling on their skin and leaving it tacky, parchment forgotten atop Arthur’s desk because he quite rudely _interrupted_ Merlin in the middle of writing a speech for him. 

Merlin should really get up and finish it—aside from _that_ task he has boots to polish and clothes to wash and a hole in the drapes to mend—but it’s hard to justify moving when Arthur is curled so possessively around him, threading his fingers idly through his hair and occasionally pressing a kiss to his temple. Whenever Merlin used to allow himself to imagine actually _being_ with Arthur, he thought it might be the sort of situation where they were drunk and it was over as soon as it started and he’d hold the fragmented memories close to his heart for all the painful years it took Arthur to realize they were destined to belong to each other. He never indulged in dreams of kisses, or being held, or god forbid Arthur telling him he _loved_ him. 

But now that it’s actually happened, he realizes how _wrong_ he was about Arthur, who holds him hostage for _hours_ in bed even _after_ they’ve both come, cuddling him and rubbing his hands all over his body and smelling his hair. Merlin has to _beg_ for Arthur to let him up just so that he can pee or get them both food or whatever. It’s the best inconvenience he’s ever had to deal with in his whole life. 

“I have _things_ to do, you know,” he mumbles as Arthur snuffles against his ear contentedly. “That speech on trade politics is not going to write itself.” 

“Bugger the speech,” Arthur mumbles. “I can just—improvise, tomorrow.” 

“Because you’re _so_ good at eloquence under pressure,” Merlin teases, pinching Arthur’s side before smoothing a hand up his broad chest. “You’re lucky you’re so handsome. M’sure the people of Camelot seek an audience with you mostly just to ogle your bottom.” 

Arthur grins enormously, because he loves compliments. “Is _that_ why you only hear half the words I say to you? Too busy being captivated by my devilish good looks?” 

“No, it’s just that you rarely say anything of any import,” he counters. 

Arthur bites his shoulder. “How’s _this_ for import: bring that parchment here to bed and we’ll scrawl up the last of the speech together before I fuck your very distracting mouth.” 

Merlin groans, because as lovely as that sounds, it’s another several hours lost because as it turns out, they have yet to find a way to be brief about any of this. “Arthur, it’s not _just_ the speech. Until you get another manservant to take care of your armor and tack and _meals_ and whatnot, I can’t spend _all_ my time in your bed.” 

“Fine then,” Arthur sighs. “I’ll send for George as soon as possible. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to assist in concealing this scandal. _Then_ you’ll be properly off the hook.” He pauses then, expression faltering as he smooths his fingers down the bridge of Merlin’s nose sweetly. “Unless…Don’t tell me _Gaius_ needs you for chores as well. Perhaps I should look into hiring another apprentice for him, too. Can’t have you gathering herbs and mixing poultices when you should be having your mouth fucked.” 

Merlin settles back into the warm sheets, gazing up at the canopy of velvet draped over them, lush and royal and far more inviting than his own humble quarters downstairs. “Oddly enough, Gaius has not needed my assistance so much as of late. He and Geoffrey have suddenly struck up some sort of friendship or professional appreciation or what have you—they’ve been staying up quite late every night chattering away. He keeps giving me evenings off.” 

“Oh has he?!” Arthur asks, brows arching comically high, corners of his mouth upturned into a delighted smile. “Good for him. I mean, gross, but good.” 

Merlin makes a face, not sure what’s so repulsive to Arthur about Gaius and Geoffrey being friends, but deciding not to press on the matter further because Arthur is full of many absurdities and inconsistencies and he’d make himself go mad trying to keep track of them all. “Yes, he has. That’s why I’ve gotten to spend so many nights here with you. Keep up, Arthur,” he scolds, reaching over and twisting a fingers into the downy blonde hair that’s getting overgrown at the base of his neck. “I wonder what they’re up to. S’quite unusual, for Gaius to burn candles so low at night.” 

Arthur snorts, eyes flashing. “I mean, what do you _think_ they’re doing?! Can’t be that different than what _we_ do. Like I said, good for him, but gross. I’d prefer not to dwell on it, thanks for painting such a vivid picture, Merlin, I’m infinitely grateful,” he finishes, voice dry. 

The implications of what Arthur has just said dawn on Merlin in slow motion, but still, he does not fully accept them.Instead he just stares, astounded. “They’re not—they couldn’t.” 

And then it’s Arthur’s turn to stare. “Did you not _know?”_ he blurts, rolling over on his stomach to peer at Merlin through narrowed eyes, mouth twisted into a smirk that is both quite incredulous and quite pleased. 

He’s _complacent_ , Merlin realizes, thrilled to possess information Merlin has somehow failed to acquire himself. But he’s _wrong_ about this,He must be. Merlin would _know_ if Gaius and Geoffrey—“Oh,” he says suddenly, covering his newly burning face with his hands. “I—there was an afternoon last week. Gaius told me not to come back until the evening but I finished mucking early and returned to his quarters to grab some bread for lunch and he arrived at the door all _flushed_ and handed it to me through the crack and wouldn’t let me in and I just—I thought—“ 

Arthur erupts into cackling giddy laughter, mouth open and lovely, head tilted back to show off the glorious skyline of his throat. If Merlin was not so preoccupied with his sudden and shocking revelation, he might bend to lick up the jagged peaks of it, but instead he just lies there, horrified. “Merlin!” Arthur chokes out, eyes positively _streaming_ with tears. “ _What_ did you think?! That he was having a go by himself?” 

“No! I don’t think about Gaius doing _anything_ like that, with his own hand _or_ Geoffrey! I thought—I thought he was doing something _else_ embarrassing and I walked in on him. Like I don’t know, singing.”

“Singing!” Arthur crows, grabbing the pillow out from under Merlin’s head and tossing it to the floor before tackling him to the mattress. “You’re ridiculous and I love your stupid idiot brain so much. How on _earth_ have you failed to notice Geoffrey and Gaius’s preoccupation?! Morgana set them up _ages_ ago. I thought for certain out of _everyone,_ you’d be receiving the most frequent updates. I assumed you and Gaius might titter about it at night, over bowls of soup or something, while I froze up here in my cold lonely bed wishing you’d return.” 

Merlin is realizing, now, that there _were_ clues he chose to ignore. There was a peculiar tilt to Gaius’s mouth when he spoke of his secretive night time activities. A loaded lift to his brows when he sent Merlin on an unexpected errand in the middle of the day so he could be alone. In fact, he’d even _winked_ a few times before announcing he was going to visit the library. Merlin had just thought he was really excited to get some midday reading in, or else that he was offering kind, but misguided opportunities for _Merlin_ to go have a quick tumble with Arthur, because he labored under the correct assumption they _could_ be quick. He had been so stupid, so blind, so self involved. He frowns, rolling over and hiding his face in Arthur’s underarm. “M’afraid I was too busy daydreaming about you to think of anyone else’s happiness,” he admits. Then, after a few moments, “I am not a very good friend.” 

Arthur kisses his hair, and pulls him close. “Oh shut up, Merlin, you’re a _terrible_ servant but you’re an excellent friend. I’m sure Gaius is so over the moon himself he’s hardly noticed you not noticing.” 

“Let’s hope,” Merlin grumbles. “I should congratulate him.” 

“If I provide you a bottle of Camelot’s finest wine to present to Gaius, will you _forget_ about the speech and leave the rest of your duties to George and let me _have_ you already?” Arthur begs, thumbing over Merlin’s pout, rough and needy as his eyes flash. “I _hate_ watching you talk for any prolonged period of time without getting to wreck you. There are _many_ things your lips are better suited to than pouting.” 

And Merlin does not have a chance to speak further on the matter, but he supposes that’s to be expected. 


End file.
